locked out.

knit baloon girl

knit balloon girl: This photo of some very nice yarn graffiti was too good to pass up.

I was planning dinner in my head as I approached my building earlier this week carrying my loot from a few stops along the way including some fresh bread from my local bakery.

salad. chicken. pork maybe. oven toasted bread with nutella for sure for dessert. i think i have cucumbers for the salad so that’s good. cherry tomatoes or vine tomatoes? hmm. i’ll see which are fresher. Ooh, i think there’s an avocado in the fridge.

Once I reached for the door handle I realized there wasn’t anyone sitting at the trusty desk. The doorman was nowhere to be seen. How was I supposed to get upstairs to grill my chicken? So after standing there for a few seconds like a lost puppy I backed up and decided to try my hand at the keypad. At some point someone gave me a code to enter the building on the off-chance that the doorman wasn’t there. The problem, if you can call it that, is that since I moved in about six months ago there has almost always been someone there pushing a secret button that unlocks the door letting me in or even opening it for me. The keypad looked like something from outer space. I’d never really invested much time in it since I’ve never had to use it. I remember being excited by the newfangled technology in my building when I was choosing a place to rent. There is a camera so that in theory if a guest came to the door and figured out how to contact my apt using this high-tech keypad thingamajig I’d see them on my monitor, we could speak to each other and I could choose to buzz them up. It was all very exciting when I wasn’t the one figuring out the fancy keypad. There were buttons. Lots of buttons. Suddenly my bag was getting heavy.

I’m not sure which button I pressed but the screen asked me to search for a resident by name. I knew no one was home so why would I call my own apartment. I could choose a random apartment and see if they’d buzz me in. Would they know how to do that? When I order delivery the doorman buzzes us to confirm we ordered delivery so that random people don’t gain access to the building for no good reason. Those times I usually hit the wrong button a few times before I remember how to answer then can’t figure out how to hang up again. What are the odds that another resident is better at it? Finally! A savior was approaching. Another resident, she’d surely let me in. She walked right up and did the same thing as me. I asked if she knew the code. No such luck. between the two of us we could remember about 3 or 4 numbers that might be in the code but we had no idea what order they were in and we were sure there were a few more digits involved. We tried a few combinations before another resident approached and as she was discovering the situation on her own the doorman reappeared behind his desk. The man has a right to use the facilities doesn’t he? I immediately asked him the code and stored it in my phone. I won’t be locked out again.


About clarissa

I'm a girl from Texas living in New York since October 2010. I fell in love with New York City on a business trip here in April 2009. I had to drag my husband along for the ride at first but just a few hours on his own while I was at the conference and he was completely on board. He began texting me mundane things like the price of milk and the quality of produce so that I could see it wasn't so much different than Austin. What are the chances that after just one week in New York two people would leave with the exact same resolution to one day live there? We did. Just about 18 months later we signed a lease on a new apartment and started a new chapter in our lives. This blog will hopefully give me a chance to document our adventures in New York as well as to share my perspective on the same using photos and stories. enjoy.
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